


Dispel

by faite, laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Crying, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Illustrated Fic, M/M, Magic, Or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faite/pseuds/faite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve is hit with a love spell, but he doesn't want it undone: he loves Tony and he's never been happier.





	Dispel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> For the following prompts:  
> \- A tabloid photo catches Steve on camera, staring at Tony from a distance while they're at a gala event.  
> \- Steve is hit with a love spell and can't tell anyone or it becomes permanent. He does his best to rein in his newfound infatuation with Tony, but he keeps finding so much to love. It gets even harder when it looks like Tony reciprocates, and Steve has trouble remembering why jumping into bed with him is a bad idea.

The last thing Steve expected on his morning run was to run into Loki, but as he does, he thinks he really should’ve known better. When has his life ever been normal? He doesn’t have his shield with him, but he does have the Avengers ID card, hidden in his trousers pocket. Before he can activate it, however, Loki raises his hands and a ray of green light hits Steve in the chest.

He stands completely still, but there’s nothing: no pain, no tingling, no stars blooming in his vision . . . 

“I do not wish to harm, Captain,” Loki drawls, her voice deep and silky. 

“What have you done to me?” Steve asks, unwilling to call the Avengers now when for all he knows he’s just become the bait to a trap.

“Oh, it’s a simple love spell.” Loki chuckles. “Don’t think to ask my dear brother for an advice: if you tell anyone, the effects will become permanent.”

Steve takes a step back.

Loki’s messing with him. She has to be. “I won’t ever love you.”

Loki laughs at that. “Where would the fun be in that?” She shakes her head. “Now, the master engineer . . .”

That means _Tony_.

But Loki’s bluffing, isn’t she?

Steve can’t demand answers: Loki’s silhouette becomes blurred and then she’s gone.

Steve’s not even halfway through his run, but returns to the Tower instead of continuing. He needs to think.

As it turns out, he _can’t_ think, because when he steps out of the elevator, there’s Tony, stretching his arms over his head as he’s heading for the kitchen. His pyjama shirt rides up, uncovering a patch of skin, and his trousers hung _too low_ on his hips.

Steve _stares_.

“Oh, morning, Steve. Is there coffee?”

Steve blinks. Tony’s hair is sleep-mussed. He wonders what it’d feel like to touch it. 

“Steve?”

He shakes himself. “Sorry, I’m just back from my run.”

And Loki, clearly, was _not_ bluffing.

***

Tony’s fully caffeinated and therefore actually awake by the time Steve shows up again, this time in his Commander uniform. He keeps claiming he’s not an Avenger, but he carries the card, and he’s moved back to the Tower. Tony’s more glad of that than he can say, really.

“Have a good day,” Tony says. “No international crises or anything.”

“One can hope,” Steve says. He’s looking at Tony weirdly. Before, Tony thought he was just too tired, but now . . . Steve’s staring at him like Tony’s grown a second head or something. He pats himself on the head just to check, but nope, all human.

Steve raises an eyebrow and Tony smiles sheepishly. “You look at me like I have something on my face.”

“No, you look good,” Steve says. “Uh. I mean. You look fine. Normal. That’s— _Ihavetogo_.”

He all but runs away, and Tony’s left staring at the place where he’s been standing just a moment ago.

What the hell has _that_ been about?

Tony’s thought they were on good terms again: in the Illuminati together, no secrets between them anymore.

Well. No secrets but one, but Steve doesn’t know about that, does he? Tony’s done a good job of hiding it for years now.

***

Steve goes through his day as if in a haze. He snaps out of it when he has missions to run, barking orders through his comms, because too much depends on him to daydream about Tony, but he gets absolutely no paperwork done.

 _A love spell. A love spell made to make him fall for Tony Stark_.

He wants to talk to Strange, but that will make it _permanent_. And he can’t—he knows he’d be setting himself up for a heartbreak. Tony’s his best friend, but it’s obvious he doesn’t care for Steve as much as Steve cares for him. The war between them proved that well enough.

 _Fuck_.

Steve’s moved on from the SHRA, and they’re in the Illuminati together, but the reminder that _Tony hadn’t trusted him_ is still a bitter taste in his mouth. Tony’s so important to him. Steve can’t lose him.

Not to a stupid spell.

It’ll probably fade with time. Loki’s done her joke, and in a week everything will be normal again. Steve just has to avoid Tony for the duration of it.

Okay. He’s got a plan now. All he has to do is to follow it.

***

Tony’s soldering a minor controlling circuit in his workshop, but he’s not really focused on it. He wonders what he’s done to chase Steve again. He’s only seen him in passing the past few days, Steve always dashing as soon as he spotted Tony. 

If Tony messed up again somehow, it wouldn’t really be surprising, but he’d like to _know_. 

This uncertainty is the worst.

He sets down the soldering iron. Time to stop pretending he’s doing any work done. He needs to talk to Steve, and he has the perfect pretext for once.

He heads upstairs. Steve’s usually back at this hour on the days when the world is almost destroyed only once, and Tony doesn’t think it’s been more than that today. It’s a slow Tuesday.

Steve stiffens when Tony walks into the kitchen, and Tony half-expects him to say he’d left the kettle on and run away, considering how his excuses ran lately. He doesn’t, but that might have something to do with the fact that his mouth is stuffed full with spaghetti.

Tony waves at him from the doorway. “Hiya.”

Steve thankfully doesn’t try to answer while still chewing.

“You remember the gala on Friday?”

Steve nods.

“It’s really important, we’re getting donations for children’s prosthetics—”

“I’ll be there,” Steve cuts in. “I’ve promised already.”

“Good.” Tony forces himself to smile. “But . . . Look , it’s, uh—have I done something wrong lately?”

Steve shakes his head immediately. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Tony gives him a look. “Considering you’ve known immediately _why_ I’m asking, then yes, yes you do.”

Steve sighs. He looks down, unhappy. “I’m not upset with you or anything. Promise.”

“Then what?”

“I—” Steve looks at him. And looks. And looks.

“Steve?”

Steve runs his hand down his face. “I’m fine,” Steve says. “And you’re my friend and I’d say if something was wrong.”

Something _is_ wrong, though.

“Please don’t push.”

“But you _will_ tell me if anything—”

“Yes.”

Steve looks so unhappy that Tony drops the topic.

“well,” Tony says. “I’ll leave you to your food then.”

Steve shakes his head. “You can stay.” He sounds honest and he’s not avoiding Tony’s eyes, so Tony pulls himself a chair. Not to sit there empty-handed, he picks up a banana and peels it to eat.

Steve stares at him.

Tony sighs and wants to ask, but Steve shakes his head.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, and puts a spoonful of pasta in his mouth again.

***

The gala will go splendidly, Steve knows. It’s been eight days since Loki’s spell, so everything should be back to normal, and he’ll be able to have a conversation with Tony again without wondering what his lips taste like. 

He might not like dressing up and having small-talk with the rich elite who only cares about making themselves look good—and he keeps marvelling at how _different_ to them all Tony is, always driven to help, no matter the cost—but it’s for a good cause, and Tony asked him to help, so Steve will do his best.

He puts on his dress uniform. He’d prefer a normal suit, but he knows the uniform makes an impression. He combs his hair. He checks the hour and nods at himself. He’ll be just in time. Not that he has to worry, considering the gala is taking place only three floors down in the Tower, but he doesn’t like being late.

Tony’s close to the entrance when Steve arrives, so he walks to him, happy to be able to talk to him normally again. 

And then Tony turns, and Steve takes him in: the impeccable suit, probably of Jan’s making, hugging his body close and accentuating how he’s both slender and strong. The blue tie making his eyes stand out even brighter. His perfectly trimmed goatee. His blinding smile.

Steve realises that Loki’s spell is very much not gone.

Tony’s been saying something to him. Steve hasn’t understood a single word.

The gala will be hell.

***

Tony goes to the kitchen on pure muscle memory. He’s had an hour of sleep, which is more than he sometimes gets after a big gala like last night, but he’s got an important meeting soon and he needs to be on his best game for it. Therefore, he needs coffee. (As if he needed an excuse for that.)

Carol and Jan are in the kitchen, which surprises him—he assumed everyone else would sleep in—and they’re talking animatedly over a newspaper. They fall silent when they see him.

Tony makes himself his coffee and downs it before asking. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Jan says.

“You did look good in her suit,” Carol joins in.

Tony raises an eyebrow as he reaches for the newspaper. It’s _Superhero Daily_ , and there is a picture from his gala on the first page. He frowns. He thought their reporters, if they could be called that, weren’t let in. Then the picture registers. Tony recognises himself in the background, a blurred silhouette to the right. The focus in on Steve, looking entirely too good in his dress uniform. His expression is pinched, like something’s bothering him. There’s no doubt that he’s looking straight at Tony.

Tony sighs. “He said we were good,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

“What?” Carol asks incredulously.

Tony points at the picture, resigned. “This,” he says. “This is the _Steve-is-mad-at-me_ face. He makes it a lot.”

Carol and Jan look between each other. They look at him. Back at each other.

“I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry,” Jan says slowly.

“Tony,” Carol says. “This is not a face of someone who’s _mad_ at you.”

“Mad _for_ you, though,” Jan says. “That could work.”

Tony looks at the picture again. Nope. Definitely Steve’s annoyed face. They just don’t know him like he does.

  


And neither does the tabloid, but that’s not surprising. Still, Steve won’t be happy. INSIDE CAPTAIN AMERICA'S UNSHIELDED HEART is written in big font above the picture. He’s not even Captain America at the moment, which is the least of the issues with the headline.

“I’ll tell my lawyers to sue them,” he says, feeling a headache brewing. 

***

Steve can’t go on avoiding Tony forever.

Scratch that: he _can_ , technically. But he doesn’t want to. He can’t imagine his life without Tony, and more than that, it wouldn’t be fair to Tony at all. 

But it’s almost impossible being near him, either. The gala disaster proved that well enough. Steve’s face goes red at the very thought of that _Superhero Daily_ front page. Tony laughed it off, but . . . They were right. They were horribly right. He was staring at Tony. He was horrible at chatting up the guests, because Tony was just there, wearing this beautiful suit and being entirely too enticing just by existing.

The worst thing is there is no reason for him _not_ to love Tony. Tony and his big heart, Tony and his readiness to sacrifice everything for others, Tony and his warmth for his friends, Tony who always, always wants to do the right thing. And even if he sometimes disagrees with Steve . . . Steve can trust him not to compromise his morals for anything, and that _is_ important.

God, Steve doesn’t have to list all the ways in which Tony is the best man he knows: they’re friends. He _knows_ Tony.

He loves him.

 _Fuck_.

If the spell won’t go away, he has to learn and live with it.

***

“Hey, Tony.”

Steve’s voice comes as a surprise and Tony jolts over his keyboard. He turns on his swivel chair and blinks as his eyes readjust to looking at something different than a computer screen.

It’s been ages since Steve came to see him. “Something wrong?” Tony asks.

“No.” Steve walks to him, but his movements are tense.

“Well, something clearly is wrong,” Tony says, tired of it all. “You avoid me, and you can’t even look at me now, and you—”

Steve kisses him. 

Tony keeps his eyes wide open, because _it must be a dream_ , except no it’s not, Steve’s right there, hot under Tony’s hands, and _oh god Tony’s wanted it for so long_.

Steve breaks the kiss and steps back, looking horrified. “I’m sorry!” he yelps. “I didn’t mean to do that—I’m sorry, Tony, I—”

“You kissed me,” Tony says, incredulous. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you not want to do that?”

“I did, but you don’t want me, so I—”

“Steve,” Tony interrupts. “I kissed you back, in case you didn’t notice.”

Steve stares at him. “You . . . did?”

The best strategist in the world, Tony thinks fondly, and he takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him thoroughly. 

“Wow,” Steve says later, and Tony echoes the sentiment.

***

Steve runs his hand down Tony’s back. The past week has been the happiest since . . . ever, really. Kissing Tony and sleeping next to Tony and sleeping _with_ Tony: it’s amazing. He loves him so much.

 _It’s a spell_ , a part of him whispers, but even if, does it matter? He’s happy like that. Tony is happy. It’s a win/win situation, for once in their lives.

He might _thank_ Loki.

“Love you,” he says and presses a kiss to Tony’s naked clavicle.

Tony mutters something through his sleep, relaxed and smiling.

Steve makes his decision.

He picks up his phone and goes to the other room. Most Avengers just have bedrooms in the Tower, but both Tony and Steve have a private living room, too. He dials Strange’s number and waits. 

“Commander?” Strange’s voice surprises him. Usually it’s Wong who picks up his calls. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Steve says. “Uh. Is there—could there be a spell that becomes permanent if you tell another person about it?”

Strange hesitates audibly. “I haven’t heard of it, but magic isn’t exact science,” he says after a moment. “Who are we talking about here?”

“Loki.”

“I’m sure she knows many spells I am not aware of,” Strange says, which is as good as a _yes_. “I would have to examine the subject of the spell to be certain. Magic always leaves a trace.”

“It’s me,” Steve admits, and then he takes a deep breath. “Loki—she said she cast a love spell on me. To make me fall in love with Tony. She said that if I told anyone it’d be permanent, but—” _I want it to stay this way_ , Steve thinks, but he can’t finish the sentence.

There’s a loud gasp, and Steve turns to see Tony standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wearing just his pyjama bottoms, suddenly wide awake.

His face is as white as a sheet.

Steve disconnects the call without another word. “Tony, I—”

“Call him back,” Tony says. His voice is steady, as if his eyes aren’t glistening with unshed tears.

And that’s Steve’s doing.

“Tony, listen to me,” he says. “I love you, I—”

“You were fucking cursed by a Norse god, and instead of noticing _I used you_ , and—and—I know you’ll never forgive me when you’re back to normal, but I’m sorry, and—and—” He can’t talk more, sobs wrecking his body. 

Steve gets up to go and hug him, but Tony backs away, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“ _Call him here_ ,” Tony repeats, and shuts the door in Steve’s face.

Steve can still hear him crying.

***

He’s pathetic.

He should’ve known it was too good to be true. How could he let himself believe Steve could really want him? It was so obvious in retrospect: the weird way he started acting around Tony. The fact that he kissed him and said he loved him.

God, Tony was such an idiot, and now he’s lost Steve’s friendship, too.

He wipes at his face, but he only succeeds in smearing the tears around. His keeps shaking and _he needs to calm down_ , he needs to calm down and call Strange if Steve won’t, and he can’t calm down, he can’t, he’s—

He picks up his mobile and types a text, clumsily, _Please come_ , thanking the autocorrect for fixing the p;rasw cp,r into something legible. 

He heads to the bathroom and he splashes cold water on his face. _You’re Iron Man_ , he tells himself. _Act like it_.

But he can’t.

He grips the sink so that he doesn’t break the mirror and he thinks of Steve’s touch on his skin and he thinks of how everything’s been a lie.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when there’s a knock on the door.

He wipes his head with a wet towel, tries to ignore that he looks a total mess, and opens the door. It’s Stephen, which is a relief even if Tony’s embarrassed at being seen like this. He’s not sure he can face Steve again.

“Fix it,” Tony croaks out, his voice hoarse from the crying. 

“Tony, I—”

“You’re the Sorcerer Supreme, right, I’m sure you can undo one fucking spell—” His voice is raising as he speaks.

“Steve said he’s happy,” Stephen says, not unkindly. “And—”

“Forgive me if I’m _not_ happy sleeping with someone who doesn’t want that!” Tony yells. Has everyone gone mad here?

God. 

He pats at his face with the towel again, but he knows there’s no point. He sighs. He wraps himself in a bathing robe to feel at least a bit less naked. Stephen watches him, silent and compassionate.

Tony kinda hates him for that.

He walks out the door, crosses the bedroom and makes himself step into the room where Steve’s sitting on the sofa, still in his pyjamas. What an image they make to call the Sorcerer Supreme for help.

“Fix. Him.” Tony repeats, pointing at Steve.

“Tony, there’s—” Stephen tries to say, but Tony shakes his head.

Steve remains silent.

Strange sighs. He gestures at Steve, reciting words in a language Tony’s rather sure isn’t human, or even from this plane of existence.

He hates magic, he thinks viciously.

A few things light up in the room: Tony’s RT goes pink, making him uneasy. One window glows blue. The door is red.

Steve looks normal.

“The spell I’ve just cast,” says Stephen, “is a pretty thorough magic detection spell.”

And there’s nothing on Steve, which means . . .

“Bullshit,” Tony snaps. “My RT is glowing—”

“I thought that’s a good thing,” Stephen says drily, but then he explains, “I helped wake you from the coma, remember? The remnants of the ritual are still visible in your aura. They should be gone in the next month or so.”

Tony winces, not really happy to hear magic can cling to him for that long. “The window?”

“That’s something outside, actually,” Stephen corrects. “Some kind of a magical creature flew by. Happens everywhere in the city. And the door is the ward spell you asked me for when building the Tower. There’s one on every doorway in here.”

“There’s nothing on me,” Steve says, sounding weirdly calm.

“No one’s used any magic on you in the past year,” Stephen says. “You did say it was Loki—”

“So maybe she used a spell you don’t know,” Tony cuts in.

“So maybe she wanted to mess with the both of you.” Stephen sighs. 

“Nope.” Tony shakes his head. He can’t let himself hope. He can’t. He’s just gotten his heart broken. He can’t deal with _more_. “That’s—no. No. What can you even scan here, I’m sure you have better equipment—well, magic circles in your case—in Sanctum Sanctorum—”

Stephen looks upwards. “Tony, I assure you—”

“ _Please_ ,” Tony says. If this is real—it can’t be but _if—_ then he _needs_ to be certain. It’s vital.

“I don’t think there’s any magic on me,” Steve says, finally. “It feels too real. But, Doctor, please do what Tony asks. For his peace of mind, if nothing else.”

“Very well,” Stephen says.

They disappear together.

***

Steve tries to be patient as Strange tells him to stand in the middle of a pentagram and starts casting an array of spells on him.

 _It’s for Tony_ , he tells himself. _It’s to prove to him that Steve does love him_.

It’s so obvious, in retrospect. Loki’s the God of _Mischief_. Of course she’d tell Steve a lie that he couldn’t verify. 

And a lie that’s so close to truth it’s almost indistinguishable.

Loki didn’t make Steve fall in love with Tony, no: she’s only made him realise he’d done that years ago. It’s clear to him now. It should’ve been clear to him when Tony’s disagreement over SHRA felt like a personal betrayal more than anything else.

A fucking tabloid understood before Steve did.

He loves Tony. He’s loved Tony since before he knew Tony and Iron Man were the same person. 

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the results of my, as Tony would put it, scans,” says Strange.

Steve shakes his head. “I know I love him.” He looks away. “I’m sorry for pulling you into this.”

Strange waves him away. “I do hope Tony will believe me,” he says quietly. “He’s a friend, and—well.”

Steve thinks of Tony breaking down in sobs, thinks of him with his face red and eyes puffy ordering Strange to _fix it_ , where nothing needs fixing, and his heart breaks.

It’s his own damn fault, though. 

Strange teleports them back into the Tower. Steve’s not sure Tony’s moved for the past hour. He’s standing in the same spot, staring at nothing, twisting his fingers together.

He almost jumps when he sees them, though, and his face falls. “It’s gone, then,” he says.

“There’s no magic on Steve,” Stephen says. “There never has been, Tony.”

Tony shakes his head.

“Tony,” Steve says. “Why do you trust what Loki said more than the both of us?”

“I have the Eye of Agamotto,” Strange says. “Steve’s feelings are his own.” He raises one corner of his mouth in a smile. “And one could think you’d both have noticed them around the time your disagreement tore the superhero community apart.” With that, he’s gone, and Steve’s left alone with Tony.

He approaches him again, slowly, like he would a spooked animal.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly.

“You . . .”

“I was dumb,” Steve says. “I shouldn’t have believed Loki in the first place. I should’ve asked Strange where you wouldn’t walk in.”

Tony looks down. “I knew it couldn’t be real. I knew you couldn’t love me. I’m not sure I can do it again. Steve, I—”

Steve extends his hand and wraps his fingers around Tony’s wrist, lightly, but Tony doesn’t push him away. “I love you,” he says. “And this is one hundred percent me.”

Tony looks at him, eyes both wary and hopeful.

“I love you.” He leans down and presses a kiss to Tony’s hand. “I will say it as much as you need me to.”

Tony shivers again, but this time he falls into Steve’s arms when the sob escapes him. He clutches to Steve like his life depends on it, and later, when he calms down, Steve kisses his tears away.

“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you,” and Tony drinks in every word.

  


**Author's Note:**

> There's a tumblr post now [here](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/181784902929/) if you want to like or reblog it.


End file.
